


Unearthly Ones

by just_one_chapter_behind



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Angst, Fairly Happy Ending Though, M/M, Spiritual Inaccuracies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29140095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_one_chapter_behind/pseuds/just_one_chapter_behind
Summary: Tenzin decides the Spirit World must hold some kind of grudge against him. Alternative retelling of the Fog of Lost Souls scene, inspired by a screenshot edit.
Relationships: Tarrlok/Tenzin (Avatar)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 15





	Unearthly Ones

**Author's Note:**

> view photo here: https://twitter.com/Lenticular17/status/1355934019523850240/

Kya and Bumi are gone, stuck in an unending fog. Tenzin’s attempts to bend the clouded steam away prove futile, as does calling his siblings’ names. He continues searching desperately, yet each minute slowly drains his initial optimism to escape. Tenzin cannot afford to dwell on the possibility of failure; he has noticed the constant deterioration of souls who remain trapped. A mantra flickers across his mind on repeat: _Find Kya. Find Bumi. Find Jinora. Find Kya. Find Bu-_

His silent recitations cut off suddenly as he catches a glimpse of familiar ponytails. The same hair he used to braid during quiet evenings, running his fingers through each silky strand methodically. The same hair he last saw when its owner bloodbent him and several others into unconsciousness on the floor of City Hall. Longing wars with betrayal inside his heart, and Tenzin does not know which one spurs him into action. Perhaps it’s both.

“Tarrlok?” Tenzin whispers, not trusting his voice to stay steady at a louder volume. The figure spins around to scrutinize him.

“I was wondering where you were,” Tarrlok says. His appearance is all charming politician, suit perfectly tailored and expression smug. “Did you miss me?”

Tenzin laughs once, a hollow, bitter sound. “How could I _not_?” He resists the impulse to sprint forwards and tackle his lover - _former lover?_ \- to the ground, unsure whether he wants to kiss Tarrlok or punch him.

Instead of responding, Tarrlok merely grins, symmetrical and tiger-sharklike. “We could make up for time spent apart,” he suggests.

That smirk seems wrong somehow, although Tenzin is unable to explain why at the moment. He almost agrees, before guiltily remembering his reasons for being here. “I can’t. I need to save my family.”

Tarrlok visibly winces at those final three words. The distinguished councilman facade crumbles into pieces, revealing an entirely different person underneath. This version of Tarrlok, posture resigned and features unkempt, sharply opposes every aspect of his previous self. He glances listlessly at his right hand, now covered by an Equalist shock device, but does not reply.

Instinctively, Tenzin realizes he has been deceived, led astray by a shapeshifting hallucination. Nonetheless, he refuses to accept such conclusions, because to do so would mean he had lost Tarrlok again. Tenzin figures he can at least restart their conversation, the pretense of companionship far better than returning to solitude. “What happened?” he asks, gesturing to the electric glove.

“I needed to save my family,” Tarrlok echoes, slightly sardonic yet genuine as well. “I had to prevent my brother from following _his_ path.”

Tenzin recollects a showdown at the Probending Arena, Avatar Korra’s accusations about Amon’s true identity ringing in his ears. He refocuses on the weapon Tarrlok wears; it isn’t difficult to connect the dots. “You killed him?”

“Yes,” Tarrlok admits, “unless Noa- _Amon_ is resistant to explosions.”

Tenzin blinks, comprehension dawning. He expected an ambush, the fallen Equalist leader ultimately defeated by electrocution while his back was turned. Of course, he should have considered the extent of Amon’s powers; sneak attacks would never succeed against a psychic bloodbender. However, the implications behind the alternative, if Tarrlok had sparked the blast…

“Neither of us survived,” Tarrlok supplies softly, in answer to Tenzin’s unspoken question.

“No.” Tenzin shakes his head vehemently, as if denying the results could rewrite history. “ _No,_ you can’t be-” he reiterates, avoiding completion of his sentence.

“I’m sorry.” Tarrlok steps closer, lays an arm over Tenzin’s shoulders in comfort. His presence provides warmth, unlike the insubstantial coolness of many wraiths. A miniscule seed of hope begins to grow within Tenzin, maybe Tarrlok isn’t actually a spectre of the past.

“Come with me,” Tenzin requests. “We can leave this spirits-forsaken place together, the portals are open.”

“It’s too late,” Tarrlok counters reluctantly. He lets go of Tenzin and walks a few paces in reverse, awaiting another unknown change. The transformation is subtle at first; inflamed burns gradually replace unmarred skin and clothes develop scorch marks. Then, the process gains speed, and Tenzin can only watch in horror as blood seeps from partially cauterized wounds, crimson droplets coalescing at an alarming rate. The Equalist glove is nearly obliterated, except for a number of pointed shards embedded in the mangled remnants of Tarrlok’s right limb below the elbow.

Tenzin stares, disbelieving, unwilling to acknowledge the evidence in front of him. “You might recover,” he argues weakly, though they’re both aware these injuries cannot be mended. Even if a trained healer could repair damaged nerves and destroyed tissue, resurrecting the dead would take a series of miracles. _Or an inordinate amount of water from the Spirit Oasis,_ Tenzin amends, _which has no guarantee of working._ Still, he prefers that slim chance to nothing, and tells Tarrlok as much.

Tarrlok gives him a sad, twisted smile, one Tenzin recognizes as unfeigned. “Don’t waste your effort, the Northern Water Tribe expressly forbids it. Have you already forgotten why you’re here?”

Tenzin’s brain abruptly chooses the next instant to remind him. _Find Kya. Find Bumi. Find Jinora._ He is ashamed to have been sidetracked so easily.

“I’ll locate my missing family members,” Tenzin vows, “but I won’t abandon you either, regardless of Unalaq’s ridiculous laws.” He raises his gaze to match Tarrlok’s, sees the steely resolve in his own eyes reflected in shades of icy blue, and wisely does not mention precisely what Unalaq has been doing recently.

Tarrlok nods solemnly. “Thank you, and… good luck.” He vanishes shortly afterward, disappearing into the mist. Tenzin stands, rooted to the spot, until his father arrives to startle him out of his reminiscing.

**Author's Note:**

> the title is a reference to the unearthly ones (singing spirits who appear in deep fog to lure unwary travelers away) from "ronja, the robber's daughter". it's also a tribute to the dialogue about chakras and earthly attachments from "crawl into my heart" by lenticular.


End file.
